


tell me i'm safe ( you've got me now )

by leonhxrts



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VIII, Kingdom Hearts
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-04 23:48:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14031531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leonhxrts/pseuds/leonhxrts
Summary: Two men made for war find peace in the calm between storms.





	tell me i'm safe ( you've got me now )

The stench of blood is still thick in his senses when he reaches home. It’s caked on his gloves and splattered on his armor, mixing with the mud on his boots. It’s coating his lover’s blade and streaked through chestnut hair, and he catches sight of dried flecks splotched across the man’s cheek when he’s unlocking and shoving the door to the safe-house open without ceremony.

“Come on.”

He follows the order without comment, too tired to worry about specifics or what his heavy boots are tracking in. When the front door shuts behind him, he leans back against it, letting his shoulders settle against the wood and sag with a fatigue that is so deep, it’s settled into his bones. His boots leave smears of rusted crimson and dirt brown on the tile floor; he stares at them for a moment, tracing the lines and curves of gore and sludge absently until his vision loses focus and they all start to run together.

The rush of adrenaline and battle has faded, leaving nothing but the soul-deep exhaustion and the empty need for rest. It makes him quiet, and probably easier to handle, if the ease with which his lover pries his sword from his hand is any indication.

The soldier lets the weapon be taken from him and hears the heavy thud against the wall as it’s set aside. The brunet’s hands move, then, fiddling with the buckles of his belts until his gunblade and its holster can be hung alongside the massive weapon. Dexterous hands are back on him soon after, undoing the buckles of his armor and pulling it away piece by piece. It’s only once the weight of it is gone that he can lift his head, fighting the weariness that clings in order to focus on the face of the man slowly working.

He watches as brows furrow and the mercenary’s expression takes on a cross between frustration and worry. The warrior knows full well what he’s spotted — the wounds sting from the night air, and when he had been struck by the enemy, his companion had made them pay sevenfold for it. Said companion’s hands stop in their efforts to pry armor from his body and both palms rest lightly against his torso where blades shredded fabric and skin alike. The wounds are minor, and already healing. He wants to tell the mercenary not to worry about it, but gunmetal eyes are already aglow with the whisper of a spell, and there’s an uncomfortable burn as flesh knits itself together again.

It’s not supposed to be this way, the soldier thinks. He’s the one trying to play hero after all, always trying to save the other. But his love’s hands are peeling him apart and putting him back together piece by piece, and he is loath to fight against it as leather-clad hands cup his face and draw him slowly downwards.

His forehead presses lightly to the other’s, and for a moment they stand quiet, caked in the remnants of battle and in desperate need of a shower, no doubt. The feeling of leather is rough from the caked-on gore, and gods, they _stink_ , but for a moment, everything is alright. The battle is over.

The war can wait.

**Author's Note:**

> local man writes rarepair fic for first ao3 publication  
> i'm so good at this


End file.
